The Wolf in the Garden
by Winddragon Eternal
Summary: When Kendra, a silent sister who tends to the dead, is whisked away to her uncle's pomegranate gardens, she suspects an evil lurking behind this surreal kingdom. In her darkest hour, who can save her? Or what? OCs only.


_Hi everyone, newcomers and old-timers alike! It's time for another tale from yours truly._

 _This little project of mine was meant to be a short story, but it grew longer and I decided to put it up here to see what you readers would think. In truth, you can think of this as taking place in Westeros_ _, but doesn't involve any of the show's characters. I can't explain much, but as I said, it was written as a short story first and foremost. So you don't actually have to watch_ Game of Thrones _to read my story, which is what I'm hoping to do._

 _Hope you enjoy!  
_

* * *

 _ **I ~ The Maiden**_

All her life, Kendra had only practiced on livestock and smaller creatures.

But today, the man lying on the bed – asleep and as naked as a babe – was to be her first human.

The blade trembled in Kendra's hand, though she had witnessed the events that were about to unfold a hundred times over. It was fortunate that she wore grey with a cowl over her head. No one would see the fear in her eyes. All around her the sisters gathered, cloaked in the same sea of dark grey robes. They wore the same cowls that shrouded their faces, yet Kendra knew all eyes in the room were trained on her. Every gaze was as fierce as a pack of she-wolves.

They watched in silence, waiting for her to make the first move.

 _Remember what I told you_ , a voice whispered inside her head. _Even the finest of knights must learn when to stay his blade. Trust your instincts, not your skills._

Kendra allowed the words to repeat themselves, a prayer for her lips until her breath slowed down. Her hands felt steadier. Without hesitation, she drew her scalpel swiftly, carving a straight line from the man's throat to his chest. She watched as the thin line of blood ran through, flowing quicker than a stream. Then slowly, the skin began to peel back like the layers of an onion, red and sharp smelling. And there it lay; amidst all the other glistening organs, concealed behind the ribcage – the forbidden heart.

There would be no praises or disapproval from the sisters, but that was to be expected. What Kendra half-expected, though, was to hear the screams of pain, or watch the man sit up trashing to fight for his life.

But he had already lost his own battle to the dreaded consumption weeks ago.

And the dead feel nothing.

 _ **II ~ The Father**_

When Kendra was still a child, she often found solace in the comfort of her uncle's lap. Tall, dark and spindly, he reminded Kendra of a spider – not because others found him terrifying to look at, but for the way he told his stories, like spinning beautiful webs from thin air.

She could not remember the last time he came to visit; the fruits he often brought to the abbey were the only signs of his presence. Right now, as she ran up to hug him, she was no longer a maiden of seventeen, but five again; ready to hear another of her uncle's stories.

"The sisters tell me your first embalmment was a success. I daresay you have some of the finest teachers, but remember what I taught you? Always trust your instincts, not your skills."

Kendra nodded. The truth was, she had already seen her fair deal of bodies – her first acquaintance with death happened the night her mother took to bed and never woke again. Perhaps she was pining for the husband who abandoned her, the father Kendra would never know.

Her uncle was the closest person she had to a kin. And for that, Kendra owed him the world. She never complained. Not even when he threw her – sobbing and clinging onto his robes – to the sisters in grey who tended to the dead. But on that day, something in Kendra had died the moment her uncle left with his parting words:

 _A merchant's trade is not the proper way for a girl to live, my child. You'll be better off with the sisters than with me._

The spider smiled as he reached into the corner of his sleeves. In his hand lay a pomegranate, his niece's favourite fruit. "It's yours, for a job well done. Soon you'll be the finest undertaker in the kingdom. I wager everyone will be asking you to make them look their finest for the grave."

 _Are you trying to compliment me, uncle? Or is this some kind-hearted jape?_ Kendra longed to ask, but she never would. She had said her vows before the sisters, and was now pledged to a life of silence – to bring peace to the departed and comfort the living. She would serve no lord, nor curtsey to any king. For all of us, the sisters had told her, must eventually serve death – the faceless stranger who guides every living soul to the other world. _The same stranger who came to kiss my mother good night_ , she thought _._

"I'm sorry I haven't been visiting as often," her uncle said. "I know I promised you, but I've had to take care of so many problems in my garden, I just lost track of time."

Kendra's eyes lit up, wide with wonder. _I didn't know you had a garden, uncle_ , her smile suggested. _Please, tell me more?_

"I don't know, my child. Should I tell you? I know you fancy stories with happy endings, but believe me; you've come to the wrong tale. Far from it. The only things that grow in my garden are the pomegranates. Everything else dies within days. Maybe there's some poison lurking in the ground. But if you're not careful, too much of something good can also turn into a poison. Even a fruit as sweet as this pomegranate."

Kendra's mouth hung agape. A drop of juice trickled from her lips, as the spider picked a seed hanging from her tongue and popped it into his mouth. "Oh look, now I'm going to give you nightmares. I wager the sisters won't be pleased."

She shook her head.

"Well, aren't you the brave one? Perhaps… rather than listen to an old man going on about his stories, you should see the garden for yourself. The harvest season is almost here. I need a young pair of legs, and a strong back to help me with the gatherings. What say you? Will you lend your poor old uncle a hand?"

Kendra blinked. _What is he going on about? There's no way the sisters will let me leave._ But here was a chance to visit her uncle's famed gardens – to escape to a life far, far away from so much misery and death.

 _Perhaps I will play his game first._ She nodded.

He tossed her a second pomegranate, which she caught deftly. "One day. I'll take you soon, I promise. But it'll just be between you and me."

Kendra looked up. The spider was gone, perhaps returned to the shadows. But her ears still lingered with his words.

"Remember. Our little secret."

* * *

 _ **To Be Continued...**_

 _So I'll leave you with the beginning of what I hope will be a well-received story. If you like it, feel free to review and comment._

 _Seven blessings and hope to see you soon!_

 _~ Wind_


End file.
